


Catch Me, I'm Falling

by perfectpro



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:23:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectpro/pseuds/perfectpro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara always knew it was going to end, alright? Despite falling for a conman, she's not stupid. Of course it couldn't be perfect, but she just never figured that it would end like this.<br/>Season Three, beginning of Episode 8, "As You Were"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch Me, I'm Falling

**Author's Note:**

> I was doing a marathon of season three on a day off, and this scene literally begged for me to writing something. It's the first time in a long time that writing has come this easily to me, so here's to the uphill ride.

Whatever it was she expected to find when she put the password in, it wasn't the treasure of the U-Boat. Because this... This means that Neal has been lying to her, and to Peter, for some time now. Her head swims at the thought. She knows Neal, she does. She knows the curve of his smile as he dreams, the way he likes in eggs in the morning. She knows exactly how he takes his coffee, but she didn't know this. This secret worth millions, billions of dollars.  
  
Her mother once told her that being in love was never about the big picture, that it was all about the little things. Sarah used to believe that her mother, her poor, dead mother, was right about that if she was right about anything. Gazing at the viral image, she isn't so sure about anything, much less something that her mother may have said when she was five. Because she might be in love with Neal Caffrey, and she might know all the little things, but she didn't know this. She didn't know the one thing she should have.  
  
A part of her knows she can ignore this. She can delete the history and forget the password so that no one ever has to know. The passport in the wall, something she's sure that Peter doesn't know about, stays hidden too. Something in her chest feels like it's caving in as Neal starts to knock. And she doesn't want to do this, oh God, she doesn't. She wants to kiss him until she sees stars, drink wine as they watch the sun come up with laughter, fuck him with reckless abandon. She doesn't want to look into Neal's eyes and know that it's all coming to an end.  
  
So she'll shut the computer and try to hide the evidence before she opens the door, reminding herself that this is the right thing to do. This thing that feels so wrong, like it will eat her up inside if she goes through with it. This is the thing that is right, no matter how alluring feigning ignorance may look in the moment. She knew she'd be leaving one day, but she didn't think it would be like this.  
  
“Hey,” he steps in, holding a bottle of wine as he takes in the packed bags she's put by the door.  
  
She tells him about the renovations that have been coming along, not wanting to look at him any longer than she has to. Because this is one of the last times she'll be able to look at him where he won't know what she's about to do. And when he tries to make her stay, she walks backwards and away from him. If he even touches her for a moment, she knows what will happen. She'll forget the treasure and continue being amazed by the conman she's come to love. She isn't worried about the part of her that wants to forget this ever happened. She's worried about the part of her that wants to go with him when he does whatever he's been planning.  
  
When he wants to know what happened, she almost caves. She almost looks to him and says, “Nothing.” But it's always the things people don't say that they regret the most, so she shoves that useless word down the back of her throat. “I mean, you didn't think this was going to last,” she says as though she doesn't care. As though this is just another business meeting with a client who only matters to her as much as their lost item.  
  
He's not conned by her, not even a little bit. He's the one who's been running them for so long, after all. He is Neal Caffrey, thief extraordinaire, and he's better than her in this department. So she plays dumb, acts like it's been a long time coming. She even makes a feeble attempt at the 'different people' spiel people have been giving her since she started dating him. It's really no surprise that he's able to detect someone else's words slide past her lips.  
  
“I guess you figured out everything I have to offer,” he says instead, which isn't something that she wants to hear, even if it is true. He follows it with something she wants to hear even less, “We could be good together.” There's a prickly feeling at her eyes at that one, and it's like all she can do is stare at him.  
  
 _In another life,_ a part of her thinks wistfully, _we would have been._ Because it's so true. They could be great together, going off and running away. Something Diana said, or maybe it was Christie when they were in their apartment. He stole the art, and she got it back. It wasn't just that they could be good, they _are_ good. If she stops now, there doesn't have to be any kind of should have or would have or could have. There would be present tense and a life of luxury.  
  
It would be so easy to fall into his arms and say that nothing has changed, but she's gone this far without turning back. Besides, she's not stupid enough to believe that nothing's changed. She might not feel it yet, but it would be evident soon enough. She might be stupid enough to fall for a conman, but she doesn't think she's stupid enough to let him con her. She's never done things the easy way, though. The stubborn part of her that never gave up the search for the Raphael is what looks him in the eyes and whispers, “I know.” Because she does know. Oh God, does she know. She is so in love with this man that it hurts, and a tiny part of her knows that he loves her too.  
  
That's not what she wants to leave him with. She doesn't want Neal Caffrey to remember her as the woman who knew. She wants Neal to remember her as the one he went stargazing with, one afternoon on a blanket in the middle of Central Park. The one he fucked so hard that they broke the bed frame in her apartment and spent the night on the floor with. The one who left him because she was better than stolen treasure and a life spent underground. “Neal, you live in the clouds.” A short pause, then, “And I live on West 69th.”  
  
If that doesn't just say it all, she's not sure what does. With this man, she could have been anyone. A thousand different lives, a thousand different endings. It might just be that she's feeling dramatic, but she's sure that she knew him in each. This is the man who doesn't want her to go, maybe almost as much as she doesn't want to.  
  
“I never promised you anything else,” he answers, watching her face to see if her mask is set in place or crumbling as she speaks. Because he didn't, alright? She knew he wasn't perfect when this started. She knew he wasn't going to change by its end.  
  
They make some attempt at small talk as she gathers the box of Sterling Bosh files, but her heart isn't in it. She doesn't want to be here, in June's upstairs apartment as she leaves him behind. She wants to be doing something that she loves, like finishing a recovery or digging files up about unknown leads. Not stuck in this room that all the air is draining out of. But she can't leave. Not yet, when it all feels too broken and shattered to do anything about. She has to at least try.  
  
Her eyes meet his for a long moment as she stands at the door. “Caffrey, please take care of yourself,” she says. That isn't what she wants to say, though.  
  
She wants to say, “Don't get caught.” She wants to say, “Be safe.”  
  
She wants to say, “I love you.”  
  
The time for confessing love is over dinner with expensive wine or on a street corner as he holds the umbrella, not in this apartment as she prepares to leave it for what she thinks will probably be the final time. She doesn't say, “I love you.” Still, she thinks he gets the message.  
  
Because she hates herself maybe a little more than she lets on, she allows herself one pleasure before leaving. And she hopes, above all else, she hopes he will give her this. She hopes that he will let this one weakness pass unnoticed and kiss her for a moment, as though she is leaving any other way. She is like all the other women who cannot resist his charms as she presses her lips to his for a final moment before she leaves.  
  
Sara knows what will happen. Neal will probably paint for the night and watch the canvas burn in the morning before going out and shrugging it off. She will go come and fall asleep on a mattress that doesn't have another person on it, and she will wake up crying. Not sobbing uncontrollably, like in the movies, but she will wake up with fresh tears rolling out of her eyes. She won't watch any sappy movies or eat a carton of ice cream, but she will sit down in the middle of her living room and have a glass of wine by herself. And she will cry for a long while, longer than she'll want to. Neal Caffrey will always be her chance at adventure she never took, the ticket she didn't get punched.


End file.
